The Winter Over(70)

“Jesus Christ,” Hanratty said. The galley was deadly silent, as though the air had been sucked out of the room . . . then the crowd erupted in groans and whispered “nos.” Anne buried her face in her hands. Carla and Colin, stunned, stood with mouths literally hanging open. Biddi and Dave, along with others who hadn’t quite understood the message, were asking what had happened; those who had understood began shouting simultaneously, demanding details from Cass, an explanation from Hanratty.

“They’re using us like rats in experiments,” she yelled at the top of her voice, trying to convince the crowd on the strength of her voice alone. “This whole winter-over is all just a goddamned psych test. They’re using you, using all of us. Sheryl’s death was faked! The power outage was planned!”

The words came out in a garbled rush, but enough of the message got through that people started yelling questions.

“What?”

“What did she say?”

“What does she mean, Sheryl isn’t dead?”

Hanratty, glancing at the outraged crowd, gestured. “Taylor, get her out of here. I’m going to have to handle this.”

The security chief nodded and reached for Cass’s arm.

The patronizing, take-charge gesture broke her last remaining thread of self-control. As the man’s fingers curled around her bicep, she screamed incoherently and drove the butt of her palm into his face. Taylor’s nose buckled with a crunch and blood exploded across his face. Shocked by the assault, the security chief looked at her in disbelief, then shook his head like a bull and swung.

His fist caught her on the side of the head, a clumsy punch that stunned her but galvanized the onlookers. The room broke into full chaos, with crew members surging forward to try and separate the two. Taylor, not a popular man, had as many hands restraining him as Cass, although someone grabbed her from behind and shouted in her ear, “What the hell were you thinking?”

Hanratty was shouting for Ayres and Keene to help him. Taylor, his face a nightmarish mask of blood and anger, struggled against the hands restraining him. The crew split into camps, with some trying to tug Cass out of the galley under Hanratty’s shouted orders, others trying to subdue Taylor, while still others tried to quell the panic and rage that had destroyed the night’s festive atmosphere with an explosion of violence and recrimination. Jun’s suicide seemed forgotten.

While Ayres and Beth Mu?ez tried to pacify the crowd, Hanratty, Deb, and Keene bundled Cass out of the galley and down the hall toward the administration offices. Taylor followed them, cursing and holding a napkin to his nose. The procession was an awkward tangle of bodies and emotions, with Cass struggling against the three of them. The shouts and bellows of the uproar behind them faded.

They dragged Cass through to Hanratty’s office, where she was shoved into a guest chair. Cass, caught between crying and snarling, bruised, simultaneously cold and white hot, seethed.

Hanratty tossed a box of tissues from his desk to Taylor. “Clean yourself up and get out to the lab.”

“Make sure you get rid of the evidence,” Cass called as Taylor walked out holding a wad of tissues to his nose. He shot her a dark look as he left.

Hanratty signaled for Keene to close the door, then he came around his desk to sit on the edge. He stared at Cass with a searing, predatory look. “Talk.”

“Talk? About what? About how you’ve been setting us up? Pushing buttons and watching the results while people kill themselves?”

“Start from the beginning. Why were you at COBRA in the first place?”

She struggled to stay calm. “Pete asked me to take Jun’s midwinter dinner out to him since he couldn’t join the party. I tried to follow the flag line out to COBRA, but someone had pulled up and relocated the last dozen stakes and the end was simply . . . fluttering in the wind.”

Hanratty’s eyebrows shot upward and he glanced at Deb. “Catch Taylor and warn him about the flag line.”

She nodded and hurried out of the office, calling after the security chief. Hanratty turned back to Cass. “You’re saying someone sabotaged the flag line? Misplaced it on purpose?”

“No, I’m saying you or someone you ordered to move the flag line did it on purpose.”

“I didn’t. But let’s leave that for a moment. What happened then?”

“I made it to the lab and went inside,” Cass said. “When I called for Jun, there was no answer. I searched the cubes, found an e-mail lying open on his desk supposedly from his wife—asking for a divorce—and a minute later, I found Jun hanging from the top of the dish antenna.”

“And you think Jun killed himself because of the contents of his wife’s e-mail?”

“You mean your e-mail?”

Hanratty sighed. “Jennings, do you realize how delusional you sound? I’m not a wizard, manipulating people so they kill themselves upon my command. If I had that much control, why didn’t I calm down that fracas that you started in the galley? Or smooth things over after the power outage?”

“You don’t have to control a fire in order to start one,” she said levelly. “You’re not interested in containing what you do, you’re interested in studying it.”

He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “And how do you know that?”

“All of these accidents, all of these crises, they’ve all been just too easily turned on, then turned off when things got out of control. No one saw Sheryl’s body after she died, not even the only doctor on station. The power went out, but was magically restored precisely after the crew had reached an emotional tipping point.”